It Happens Every Day
by lizardwriter
Summary: Effy's got a past  but who doesn't  and it's haunting her in her first year of Uni. She doesn't want to make friends, but maybe it's bound to happen anyway and they'll be able to help. Disclaimer: I don't own Skins.
1. New Beginnings

**A/N: So I told myself I wouldn't post a new story unless it was complete, but I kind of have mixed feelings on this one, so I'm breaking that rule. I want to see if there's actually any interest in it and it's worth continuing, so let me know your thoughts. This is completely AU and will be dark at times, just a heads up. **

**Title is from the Dar Williams song by the same name. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters. **

**.**

**.**

_His grin grows and distorts, turning lurid and horrible all at once. _

_I go to turn but I'm trapped in place, unable to move, his arms on either side of me, holding me there. I open my mouth to call out, to ask for help, to say no, but his tongue's suddenly down my throat. _

_His hands are everywhere, all over me at once, on me, in me, invading me. _

_The room is growing dark and he's growing bigger, taking up all the available space, pushing into me, crushing me. _

_He's going to do it again. He's going to break me. He's going to shatter me. _

I sit bolt upright, my eyes flashing open as I look wildly around the darkness of my new room in my new flat. I'm gasping for air and I've broken out in a cold sweat. I try to breathe deeply.

I tell myself it was only a nightmare. I'm safe. I'm alone.

Telling myself it's a nightmare would be a lot easier if it wasn't also my worst memory.

.

.

I'm not thrilled with starting work today, but I don't want my mum to have to pay for things and I'd rather be dead than be financially dependent on my father long term.

"Ah, good, you're here. Lucky you there are two of you starting today," the tall wiry man with red, flushed cheeks and glasses to big for his face who hired me says, indicating a thin, blonde girl leaning against a nearby wall looking incredibly bored.

He beckons her over and she pushes off the wall and stalks over, clearly trying her best to muster up a fake smile for our new boss.

I find myself mildly amused.

"You'll undergo a week's worth of training. It is very important. Cal, here, is going to teach you everything he knows. Be sure to pay attention," our boss continues, gesturing towards a lanky, pimply faced boy who looks far too smug for the stupid store smock he's currently wearing.

I'd bet money that he's out boss's son. I repress a grimace.

"Carl!" our boss calls, smiling proudly at the boy.

Carl steps forward, smarmy smile on his face. "Good morning, ladies," he says as his eyes rake down my body and down the blonde's.

I feel a wave of nausea hit me and I will my face to stay neutral as I fight the urge to run.

Our boss turns to us expectantly. "Good morning," we both murmur quickly.

Our boss smiles a half-smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Right. I'll leave you to your training. Carl will get you shirts and smocks and get you started. Remember, girls, it's pleasant service with a smile we offer here at Gary's Grocery."

That's not his name, I remember, though I can't remember what his actual name is.

As soon as he wanders away out of sight, Carl becomes even less subtle in the way he's checking us out.

"Right, then. Measurements, ladies?" he asks clearly trying to sound seductive and failing miserably. He can't be older than sixteen, the cheeky git. "The more details the better."

"I'll take a medium," the blonde says in a sharp tone that says she's not a mused.

"Small," I volunteer.

Carl lingers for a second as if hoping for more, then turns and heads to the back looking a bit put out.

"Pervy little wanker," the blonde mutters under her breath.

I'm inclined to agree, but I say nothing. That's my specialty, after all.

She sighs heavily, but seems unbothered by my silence. "And what the hell do we need a whole week of training for? How hard is it to put things on shelves, scan items with the scanner, put on a fake smile, and say 'Thank you for shopping with us. Have a nice day,'?"

I let a smirk grace my features. This girl's sarcastic, and I like that. "It's the price guns," I volunteer, tone amused, surprising even myself.

She turns a curious gaze on me, blue eyes bright.

"It's extremely difficult to figure out how to pull the lever and place the price right side up," I elaborate in monotone.

She grins at me. "Ah, I see. Good to know. I'll pay special attention when Creepy Carl teaches us that, then."

I let out a small laugh. I don't normally easily connect with people, but this girl's clearly got a brain and some wit. It's refreshing. (Then again, I don't normally give myself a chance to connect with people.)

"I'm Naomi," the girl extends her hand.

I hesitate for a split second before taking it, resisting the shudder that always threatens when someone I don't know touches me. "Effy."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Short for Elizabeth," I supply.

"That's unique," she comments.

I shrug, putting on my default mysterious persona. "So am I."

.

.

Somehow we make it through the day, though Carl grows no more charming, and the tasks he gives us as our distaste for him becomes more apparent grow more and more menial.

"That's not how you put that on the shelf!" he exclaims, snatching the can of Heinz Chocolate Sponge Pudding from Naomi's hand. "The label always has to face perfectly forward and line up with the can next to it."

I smirk. I don't know about Naomi, but I've been doing it wrong on purpose just to aggravate him.

"Oh, look at the time," Naomi remarks. "Three o'clock. We're done for the day. Thanks for the stellar training, Carl."

Her voice drips with sweetness, but is laced with sarcasm, and her expression makes it clear (to me, at least) that she could not be being less sincere.

Carl apparently missed that, as he stands up a little taller and smiles. "Yes, well...Not a horrible first day. You both have a lot to learn. Leave the smocks in the back. The shirts are yours. Keep them clean and tidy," he dismisses us as if he's the big man in charge.

"Up-himself, pompous worm," Naomi mutters under her breath as we walk away together.

I let out another small chuckle and she smiles at me. We hang up our smocks and leave quickly out the back.

I pull out my pack of fags and light up, inhaling deeply as I wordlessly offer the pack to Naomi.

"Oh, thank God. I'm out. I'd have bought a pack, but wanted to get out of there as fast as possible."

I nod in understanding, as Naomi lights up. She lets out a contented sigh, breathing out the smoke through her nose, and stomps for a second against the chill in the autumn air.

I watch her, taking in the way she lazily looks around, like now that she's out of work she's got nowhere to be in a hurry. Her eyes flash to me, and she catches me staring.

I don't glance away embarrassed like most people.

She raises an eyebrow and appears to contemplate something for a second. "Hey, so I don't know about you, but I could really use a drink after that shite," Naomi says.

I should say no. I don't really make friends. They usually only cause problems and they ask questions. I don't like answering questions.

I _know_ I should say no, but my mouth opens and replies, "Yes," instead.

She smiles. "Cool. I'm meeting some friend in about an hour and a half."

More people. I should make an excuse now and back out of it.

As if sensing that I'm about to try to weasel my way out she adds, "Tell me where you live and I'll stop by and pick you up."

No chance of just not showing up and claiming I got busy, then. Cool and calm, I tell myself. I feel my mask settle into place. I shrug nonchalantly. "Sure."

.

.

I'm hesitant as I walk into the pub with Naomi. She heads straight to a table towards the back where there's a redhead and a girl with burgundy hair sitting deep in conversation with each other.

As Naomi approaches two sets of dark brown eyes look up. The redhead's eyes light up with a blaze of love that almost overwhelms me. I falter in my step, but recover quickly before anyone has a chance to notice.

Naomi leans in to give the redhead a big kiss on the lips, and if it hadn't been for the redhead's reaction upon seeing her, it might have surprised me. I'm aware it might've shocked other people, but I've never seen the point in judging people based on who they love. There are so many fucked up relationships, failed marriages, and fucked up people in general, I think people should find happiness where and with whom they can.

The girl with the burgundy hair rolls her eyes and then apparently notices me. She raises a curious eyebrow and her eyes drag over me appraisingly. "Naomi, who's that?" she asks.

Naomi breaks the kiss with the redhead and looks back at me a little sheepishly. "Sorry," she mutters. "Effy, this is Emily, my girlfriend," she indicates the redhead and blushes, "and her sister, Katie."

Katie shot me a smile that I could tell was only half sincere.

"This is Effy, my new co-worker," Naomi informs the sisters.

"Effy? What kind of a name is-" Katie's cut off by a rather obvious elbow in the side from Emily.

"Sorry," Emily mumbles. "Nice to meet you, Effy." Unlike her sister, Emily's smile is warm and genuine.

It's surprising and it throws me off a bit. I'm not used to genuine kindness in strangers. I give her a small nod and force a smile to momentarily grace my features.

"So how was your first day?" Emily asks, eyes lighting up as they flit back to Naomi. I watch as her arms slide around Naomi's waist and note another eye roll from Katie.

_Interesting sibling dynamic_, I think, as I catch a flash of jealousy under a front of disgust on Katie's face.

"Shite," Naomi replies, "but Effy made it bearable."

I'm momentarily surprised again. I know that at some point throughout the day I'd had the same thought regarding Naomi, but I hadn't expected the sentiment to be returned. Most people, unless they're trying to shag me, are happier _not_ in my presence.

Emily shoots me another smile.

"Our 'supervisor'," Naomi says appropriately adding air quotes, "is a pimply faced, lecherous, pervy twat."

Katie snorts in amusement and her eyes flick to me.

I nod my agreement, and for the first time I see glint in Katie's eyes. I hadn't realised just how sad and dead they'd seemed before. (Probably because I see worse in the mirror every day.) I feel my curiosity spark.

I take a seat at the round table, settling next to Katie as Naomi does the same on my other side, never removing her hand from Emily's. It's sweet, really, although Naomi hadn't exactly struck me as the lovey-dovey, public displays of affection type, so it's a little surprising.

"So, Effy, where are you from?" Katie asks, and my eyes flit back to her.

She's only actually semi-interested, I can tell. She's appraising me. Clearly I've passed some test, but I've got more to pass before she'll accept me. If only she'd realise I'm not even worth being tested.

"Here," I reply.

"Really? Us, too," Naomi replies in surprise. "Decided to go to good old Bristol University together. Well, Ems and I did. Katie just obviously couldn't get enough of us."

"Fuck off, cunt," Katie growls, but I can tell this is common, playful, even, between them.

"I'm doing Psychology there," I find myself saying. It's a little startling. I rarely offer up information about myself. It keeps people at more of a distance that way. I'm always much more comfortable having people share with me, but not sharing in return.

"Really?" it's Katie's turn to ask. She turns to me in genuine surprise and interest. "Me, too. We must be in some of the same classes."

It strikes me how incredibly pretty Katie is now that she's dropped all pretences. Her eyes are still tired, but there's a sudden spark behind them. "Yeah. I'll have to look out for you on Monday," I reply, unsure of exactly why I'm making that promise.

"Cool," Katie says with a genuine smile.

"Maybe you can get her to stop attempting to psycho-analyse us at every turn," Naomi mutters with a smirk.

"It's not my fault that you're a psychiatrist's wet dream," Katie shoots back, sticking out her tongue.

I glance at Emily who's watching the back and forth with an affectionate expression. She winks at me, clearly amused. I shoot her a smile in return. Clearly this is something that she has to deal with all the time.

"Are you saying I make you wet, Katiekins?" Naomi suggests, just barely repressing laughter.

"Ugh, ew! No. You make me about as wet as the Sahara Desert," Katie retorts.

Emily rolls her eyes, but I can see the way that her body is shaking slightly, and I know she's laughing. "Come on, Effy, let's get you and Naomi something to drink," Emily suggests, hopping off of her stool.

I slide off and follow her to the bar. I really could use a drink. This much friendship and camaraderie and open love and affection isn't something I handle well.

She smiles at me when we reach the bar. "What would you like?"

My eyes scan the bottles of liquor behind the bar. What I'd really like is a straight shot of high quality whiskey, followed by another. Normally I wouldn't hesitate with that drink order, but for some reason, I'm not sure if that's the persona I'd like to project with these people. "Whiskey and coke," I reply. I know the barman will make it with the cheaper whiskey, but, really, why waist the expensive stuff if you're just going to mix it with coke.

Emily's eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she nods. She turns to the barman when he arrives and orders my whiskey and coke, an apple martini, a beer and an alcopop.

I move to pay, but Emily stops me. "Please, if you're going to be subjected to those two bickering all night, the least I can do is buy you a drink," she says with a smile.

I don't argue, but only because I'm already planning to slip away the next time drinks are running low and buy the next round. I don't like feeling like I owe people things. I nod in response.

"You don't say much, do you?" Emily asks a moment later, when we're still standing there waiting for our drinks.

I could say that I once didn't talk for over a year, but that would mean she might ask why. I could reply with a simple, honest, "no, I don't," but that's really no fun at all. I could say any number of things, really, but instead I simply quirk an eyebrow and smile a mysterious half-smile. It's one of my default expressions, part of a carefully constructed facade that I show to the world. It usually intrigue's people enough for me to have company if I so choose, while simultaneously keeping them at arm's length.

Emily just laughs, though. "That's okay. Katie normally talks enough for all of us."

.

.

As hesitant as I am to get attached, I find myself quite enjoying Naomi, Emily, and Katie's company.

Emily wasn't wrong about her sister; Katie does talk enough for all four of us.

Half of what comes out of her mouth is noise, words spoken just to be speaking, but behind them I can't help but notice more. This persona, the one that talks about anything and nothing, is just one that Katie puts on, I think. Her eyes seem to tell a different story. The fact that she's hiding herself away makes me all the more curious about her.

She's full of sharp comebacks and witty comments. Even when Naomi's specifically provoking her, riling her up, she stays clever in her retorts. She's clearly much brainier than she appears, or than she wants to appear upon initial observation, at least.

I don't want to be interested, but I can't help but be.

.

.

Emily's an interesting character, too. She can clearly give as good as she takes if the bickering between the twins (as I've discovered they are, despite the difference in their appearance and personality) is any indication.

She loves more openly and unquestionably than anyone I've ever met. The love that she has for both Naomi as a lover and Katie as a sister is blinding.

She's open an honest, and in any other person I'd probably associate those properties with naïveté, but that clearly doesn't apply to Emily. She's been hurt, by her mother most deeply, judging by the unconscious flinch that ran through her the one time Katie mentioned her. It makes me wonder if maybe she's not so open and loving despite herself. I can see her being a defiant little creature. Deceptively strong, too.

.

.

Naomi is easy to read, though she tries not to be. She's too full of love to hide it effectively.

Her love for Emily is overwhelming and seems to have infiltrated every fibre of her being. She complains about her mum, but her smile and the light in her eyes betray the love she feels for her. She bickers with Katie virtually non-stop, but every jab is done with affection.

She's sarcastic and snarky, but it's just an attempt to hide how much she genuinely cares. She's also quite fun to talk to.

.

.

As the night draws on, I find myself not wanting to leave the warmth that this little group emanates to go back to my cold, empty apartment and my thoughts. Even knowing that I can't truly partake in the bond they so obviously share, that I can't give enough of myself for that to happen, I find myself prompting new conversation topics to make the night last longer.

The alcohol is now coursing through my veins, but my mask, my facade, is in check. It's so practiced that I don't have to work on it anymore. I become who I think they want me to be. It's what I've always done. The thing is that they scoff at me and laugh, and it seems like they only really want me to be me. It could be a problem if I were to let this night go past just tonight, but I won't. I can't. I can't let them get close. I can't let them in. Even if I wanted to, I'm not sure I even know how to anymore.

Finally the barman rings the bell signalling last orders. Naomi and I have work at the store tomorrow, and Katie's apparently helping their mum out with her wedding planning business in the early afternoon.

We stand and make our way to the door, tugging on our jackets to prepare us for the cool evening autumn air. The three of them turn to me in unison. Emily is the first to break the sudden silence between us.

"It was really nice meeting you. You'll have to come out with us again sometime. Besides, maybe we'll see you around school," she says before surprising me and pulling me into a brief hug.

My body tenses instantly at the unexpected contact, and I feel a pang of anxiety hit me. I swallow hard, aware that Emily means me know harm. I pat her tentatively on the back and offer a calm half-smile. It's just another mask though. My mind's been set off, gone on a course it won't come back from easily, racing back to memories that won't leave me alone and set me on edge. "Yeah," I reply noncommittally, stepping back a little further than I need to when she releases me.

"And I'll see you tomorrow," Naomi adds, offering a small wave. I'm glad that she doesn't seem like much of the touchy-feely type.

"And maybe I'll see you in classes on Monday," Katie offers with a small, genuine smile. She makes no move to hug me either, fortunately.

My eyes flash to her, and I feel my smile grow a little. "Yeah," I reply again. "See you," I say to them as a whole. I wave and turn, walking briskly away before full on panic sets in.

I breathe deeply as I walk, using techniques I've developed myself to remind myself where I am and that I'm safe. My ears are pricked for any noise, and my eyes glance around quickly, taking in everything around me. I notice the couple engaged in a hushed argument against the nearby hedge. I see the middle-aged woman with telling bags under her eyes walking a hyper Jack Russell terrier that's pulling on its lead. I see all three people at the bus stop: the clearly inebriated young girl leaning heavily on her friend and the older man in a suit talking on his mobile.

I see the lone tall, scrawny young man, hood of his hoodie pulled up, walking far too idly for my liking towards me on the pavement.

Out of habit I cross the street and speed up, my heart racing, beating through my ears.

I make it home quickly, not that my new flat feels like home yet, but it's better than still living with my mum and her cautious glances in my direction. She cares, but sometimes I wish she wouldn't. I know she feels guilty for something that's not her fault. I know what she sees when she looks at me.

Living in a new place, an unfamiliar flat even in a familiar city, comes with its price, however.

I lock my door as soon as I enter my flat, get a bottle of water from the fridge, double check that I did in fact lock the door, and go straight to my room, closing the door behind me.

My bed's pushed against the corner so I've got walls on two sides. I strip off my clothes and throw on a baggy T-shirt before climbing in and pressing my back securely against one wall, making sure I face the door and can see the window clearly from my position. I get a pill from the bottle on my bedside table, and take it with a big swig of water before settling down and staring out into the dark room.

I breathe deeply trying to calm my racing heart and tense body, but I know it's no good. At night alone in bed it's always the worst. The flashbacks flood back and overpower me and I feel hopeless to fend them off.

I feel his breath on my face, smell his cheap cologne mixing unpleasantly with his sweat. I see his unkind smile and his cold brown eyes. I feel his rough hands on my back and shudder, pressing back further into the wall, trying to remind myself where I really am, and that I'm alone.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing, trying to ensure I keep enough oxygen getting to my lungs and that I don't hyperventilate. My knees are tucked up to my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around them, and my hands are clenched so hard that my nails are digging in painfully. That's useful. It reminds me what's real too. I focus on that as well, and feel my panic slowly ebbing away. I know that in my nightmares it will come back, but the big battle for me is, and always has been, getting to sleep to begin with.

My ears are still tuned to the smallest sounds, the creak of the building, the tick of the clock in the kitchen, the knocking of the pipes, the bark of a dog outside; but my body is starting to relax a little. I stay curled in my little safe ball, willing the memories away. A hug shouldn't set me off this badly, but it has.

I really fucking hate myself sometimes. It's all my fault anyway. All of it.

I let my hatred flood me, embracing it as welcome over the panic. It's good after a night like tonight, anyway. It's a reminder that I always fuck up and always have. It's a reminder of why I can't really make friends with Emily and Naomi and Katie.

I'll have to be distant with Naomi tomorrow. It'll be better that way. I'm not worth being friends with, and the sooner she sees that, the better off she'll be. I've got too much baggage to be a worthwhile friend, and nobody else needs to be burdened with it. Enough people know already.

My brain starts to feel drowsy, the pill starting to work in my system, even if my hands are still clenched tight and my thoughts are still riddled with self-loathing.

As I start to drift off, a stray thought occurs to me, penetrating my swirling bundle of hateful thoughts and surprising me. I'm disappointed I won't actually sit with Katie in class, that I won't have a chance to dig beneath her facade and figure her out, that I won't figure out what made those big, beautiful brown eyes so sad. It's a stupid thought. It's my natural instinct to want to discover other people's baggage acting up. I don't need that right now. I push the feeling away with my last conscious thought before I drift into a restless, nightmare filled sleep.


	2. Reluctant Bonds

**A/N: So, thanks in part to the overwhelmingly kind response to the first chapter, I've decided to continue this. I do want to say one small thing: I don't beta or even reread my chapters before I post. There will be mistakes, although hopefully minimal ones. I know there are lots of writers who do review their work before they post, and they are better than me for that, but I can't be arsed. ****I'd rather be writing you new stuff. My apologies if the errors distract from the writing. I hope you enjoy the chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters. **

**.**

**.**

"Fuck me, Eff. I blame you if I kill Carl today. That last round of shots made getting up this morning so fucking hard," Naomi groans.

The way my nickname rolled off her tongue so easily gives me pause. I swallow hard, pushing down the strange feeling in my gut at the familiarity of it. I remind myself I'm supposed to be distant. I don't make friends. I give her a slight nod and resume staring at the far wall.

"That was a joke," she nudges me in the side with her elbow. "Well, sort of. I promise I'll leave your name out of it if I kill Carl today."

Despite myself I smirk.

"Besides, this hangover is worth it. Last night was fun."

I look at her, search her eyes subtly for any signs of deception or any indication that she's just teasing. I find none. I remind myself it's only because she doesn't really know me yet. I shrug noncommittally.

"Not much of a talker when you're hungover?" she asks.

Truth is I'm not hungover. The only sign of a hangover is the slight twinge of a headache, but that could very well be due to the knowledge that I'm facing another day of Carl's leering and "training". Still, it's a good excuse to keep my distance today without offending someone I have to work with on a regular basis. I nod.

"Well, if you recover and feel up to another night of drunken debauchery even though we have class in the morning, we're going out again tonight. Probably a little more low-key, but I can't imagine that we won't both be in need of a stiff drink before this day is over," she says, muttering the last bit under her breath as Carl approaches, smarmy smile in place.

"Ready for work, ladies? I know you're both looking forward to learning more from me," he greets us, his voice dripping with innuendos.

He makes my skin crawl. I glance at Naomi who barely represses a shudder.

"Ready," Naomi replies, adding, "as I'll ever be," under her breath to me.

.

.

Naomi's right. I'm craving a drink halfway through the day. If Carl leans in under the guise of showing me the "right" way to do something and "accidentally" brushes past my breasts again, Naomi won't have to kill him because I will. My entire body is riddled with tension and I feel like I'm about to snap. Thank God for breaks because I need nicotine if no other drug.

"Thank fuck for cigarettes," Naomi sighs, lighting her own and slumping against the wall beside me. Clearly she and I feel the same about working with Carl. "So anyway, about later, we're going to meet up at mine, and we may never make it out, but there will be alcohol and you're invited."

I was hoping that she'd forgotten that I hadn't had a chance to respond earlier before Carl had interrupted us and put us to work, but it seems I've got no such luck. I inhale deeply, letting the nicotine flood through me, thankful for its poisonous embrace of my lungs. I'm biding my time, holding the smoke in until it burns as I attempt to come up with a reasonable excuse.

"Just come home with me after work. I'm sure either Ems or I has something that would fit you if we _do_ decide to go out rather than just drink at home for a lot cheaper," Naomi adds before I can protest.

I glance at her and she's eyeing me thoughtfully, studying me, as if she knows I'm about to attempt to weasel my way out of this. Most people don't bother looking that closely and it throws me off and makes me curious. "Yeah. Okay."

It's one more night, right? That's all. It won't be a problem. I can keep them all at arm's length for another night.

.

.

"How was your day with Jenna, then?" Naomi asks, glancing at Katie who's tugging harshly at the cork of a bottle of wine while Emily looks on in amusement. The inflection that Naomi puts on the name "Jenna" lets me know instantly that she has deep seated dislike for this woman.

The way that Emily cringes and rolls her eyes leads me to deduce that Naomi means the twins' mother.

"Another fucking day in paradise," Katie mutters, yanking hard at the bottle opener that seems far too resistant to budging. She pounds the bottle down onto the coffee table. "Fucking thing won't fucking open."

Emily sighs. "Give it here," she says, leaning forward from the armchair she's resting in.

Katie shoves the bottle in Emily's direction, and after a second of wiggling the cork back and forth, Emily grins at the satisfying pop of it coming out.

Katie glares, but takes the bottle back with a grudging, "Thanks."

"And this is the effect that the lovely Jenna Fitch has on people," Naomi mutters to me with an amused smirk that I'm already sure wouldn't be on her face if _she_ had been the one to spend the day with Jenna.

"Yeah, makes you want to be a fucking raging alcoholic," Katie mutters, pouring a more than generous glass for herself and taking a big swig.

Despite myself, I chuckle.

Katie pushes off the ground and plops onto the couch, then looks at me. She pats the couch beside her. "Come. Sit. Drink," she invites, her brown eyes blank and weary.

I take a seat beside her as Naomi goes to Emily and kisses her deeply.

I watch as Katie carefully avoids looking at them and eyes me instead.

She reaches for the other empty glass on the table and pours wine in almost to the brim. "You look like you could use this as much as me."

I take it gladly and down two big gulps of the faintly sweet dark red liquid. It tastes good. "Thanks," I murmur my eyes watching her curiously for a second as she works on downing her own glass. Her hair is neatly clipped back, not a stray strand anywhere. Her outfit is smart, perfectly pressed, very businesslike, and nothing like what she'd worn to the pub the night before. Somehow it suits her equally as well. I not that, as professional as the outfit appears, it still hugs her form appreciatively and emphasises her assets (especially her gorgeous legs and the curve of her arse in that just long enough dark gray pencil skirt).

I turn my gaze to the lovebirds. Naomi is now sitting in Emily's lap, pushing into her, forcing her against the back of the chair. Their lips seem impossibly fused together as Naomi's right hand tangles in Emily's hair holding her closer still and her left hand tugs frantically on the hem of Emily's shirt. They're apparently unconcerned or, at the very least, unashamed that they have an audience.

"Disgusting, aren't they? Fucking can't keep their hands to themselves. You'll get used to it," Katie mutters.

I turn my attention back to her, startled by the assumption that I'll be around long enough to get used to it. "It doesn't bother me," I murmur, attempting to hide my shock.

Katie makes a face. "Well, it might help that you're not related to either of them. Makes me wish Gina'd come home early and throw some cold water on them."

"Gina?"

"My mum," Naomi supplies, coming up for air but not relinquishing her perch on Emily's lap, arms firmly around Emily's neck.

"You live with your mum?" I ask in surprise. I remembered Naomi talking about her mum a lot last night, but she hadn't mentioned living with her. I'd been sure that anyone who had as functional a relationship with their mother as she did had some geographical distance from her.

"We all live here," Katie replies. "She beats the hell out of our mum."

"No kidding," Emily mutters. "Gina's awesome. Don't worry. She's not like most mums. You'll meet her later."

"Plus, as you can see, she only lives a few minute's walk from campus. Beats the hell out of paying rent somewhere," Naomi adds.

Someone else to meet. A mother, no less. I'm not exactly thrilled about this development. I should make an excuse, remember something I had to do tonight. I'm sure there's coursework I've been putting off (because so far the professors have neglected to teach me anything I didn't already know from years of therapy, basic powers of observation, and some common sense). I'm about to open my mouth when Katie turns back to me.

"So, tell us something about yourself, Effy," Katie requests with a smile that's half genuine, half polite.

I'm thrown off once again by this girl. People are often so much more interested in talking about themselves, that if you give them the chance, they won't ask after you. It's something that I've always taken full advantage of. Katie had had no problem filling conversation after conversation the night before, yet here she was asking about me. She is full of surprises. Then again, while she had talked a lot last night, she hadn't given too much of herself away in all of those words. "My dad's a wanker," I offer up, giving something that's not really about me, but sounds like it is. Most people don't see past it.

"Join the club," Naomi says, finally moving from Emily's lap to claim what's left of the wine bottle. She takes a seat on the floor in front of Emily and leans back on her legs, holding the bottle up to me in an unspoken toast.

I tip my glass a smidge and then take a large gulp as Naomi takes a drink straight from the bottle.

Naomi hadn't mentioned a father figure the night before, so her agreement doesn't surprise me. The simple fact that they've said they live with Naomi's mum rather than her parents already told me that he most likely isn't in the picture.

"That wasn't about you," Katie cuts through my musings.

"What?" I ask innocently, looking into her curious, big brown eyes.

"I said tell us something about you, and you told us something about your dad," Katie points out.

She's definitely full of surprises. I find myself swallowing hard and wracking my brain for something that's about me, but still not very telling as her beautiful eyes study me. "I was born in London, but my mum and I moved here when I was four."

Katie raises an eyebrow for a second, but then smiles. "Cool. I love London. Why'd you move?"

This is why I don't like answering questions. It tends to only lead to more questions. "Because my wanker dad was sleeping with his twenty-year-old secretary. He's since upgraded from her to a new, big breasted twenty-one year old." The answer comes out more easily than I'd expected it to. It's not really about me, I tell myself.

"You weren't joking when you said he was a wanker," Emily mutters, sounding aghast.

"No," I confirm. I haven't spoken to him in almost two years, and I'm more than happy to leave it at that, even though my mum claims that he's apparently decided that he'd like to reconnect with his only daughter. The damage he's done to our relationship is irreparable, and it's not just because of his affinity for girls that are now only a few years older than me.

"What about your mum?" Naomi asks.

"She hasn't slept with any big breasted twenty-one year olds," I reply without missing a beat. It's an easy deflection. "That I know of, at least."

Naomi, Emily and Katie all chuckle in amusement, but I feel Katie's eyes searching me again.

"You get along with her?" Katie asks after a slight pause.

What is it about these people that makes them want to get to know me? Why won't they fall into my usual evasion tactics gracefully? More importantly, why am I still here, letting them ask me questions and finding myself almost wanting to answer? It's been so long since anyone took any interest in me or my life who wasn't either related to me or being paid to do so. I hadn't anticipated that some part of me might actually want that to happen, that I might actually want friends. I remind myself that they only cause problems. Nobody stays once the emotional baggage comes out. They'll get sick of me before long.

I shrug, sliding my mysterious mask firmly into place. "Well enough."

Katie's brows furrow and she opens her mouth as if to say something before apparently thinking better of it and closing it again. She nods ever so slightly.

"That's good. Jenna's enough of a bitch mum for one group of friends," Naomi mutters, taking another swig straight from the bottle of wine before Emily reaches down and tugs it away from her. "Get your own bottle," Naomi teases, but she's quickly shut up by Emily leaning down with a smug smile as she tilts Naomi's head back and presses a steamy kiss to her lips.

Katie sighs beside me, and when I glance back at her, she's rolling her eyes. "I don't know why they fucking bother with alcohol. They think love is the best drug."

I repress a small laugh, but I feel my body relax ever so slightly as it seems that the conversation has been redirected away from me.

"Love is the best drug," Emily agrees, tearing herself away from Naomi's lips and taking as dainty a sip as she can manage while drinking straight from the bottle. "But wine is nice, too."

"Not my favourite thing to drink, of course," Naomi adds, eyeing Emily with a filthily appreciative look on her face.

"Ugh, ew. Whatever you're implying, don't!" Katie complains, picking up one of the throw pillows from the couch and tossing it in Naomi's direction as Naomi laughs.

I sit back as the teasing continues, watching on in amusement, but remaining wary. I can't get attached. It's really not an option.

.

.

"I hope you lot haven't drunk all my alcohol yet!" a slightly dishevelled blonde woman who bears a strong resemblance to Naomi announces as she pushes into the room and drops a few tattered signs on the floor by the wall. There's a streak of mud across her cheek that she seems not to be aware of and it does nothing to hide the way that she's glowing with energy and natural beauty. She takes in the room and notices me. "Oh, hello, love," she says, shooting me a warm smile. "I'm Gina." She holds out a hand to me.

"Effy," I reply, tentatively taking her hand, cold from having just come in from outside. I'm a little overwhelmed by the warmth she's projecting out at me. There's no look that says, "Who is this person that I don't know that's sitting in my living room?" There's simply a genuine smile and a hint of curiosity sparkling in her blue eyes.

"Oh, the girl working with my daughter. Poor you. Keep an eye on her, she's apt to get stuck daydreaming about a certain little redhead," Gina teases, winking at me.

I'm stunned for a moment as it sinks in that Naomi has actually mentioned me to her mother. I may be getting too close to these people already. I'm torn between being anxious and being almost happy that Naomi thought enough of me to mention me to her mum. I shake myself out of my thoughts, attempting to regain a calm interior to match my exterior mask as Naomi whines, "Muuuum," at her mother.

"Oh, now, love, I'm not going to lie to the girl," Gina replies with a grin, approaching Naomi and Emily and taking the bottle of wine from Emily's hand. She takes a swig before adding, "Besides, Emily's so lovely, who wouldn't want to daydream about her?" This time a wink is directed at Emily who laughs.

"Me," Katie offers up, but the corners of her mouth are turned up in amusement.

Gina laughs as Naomi grumbles, blushing prettily. A soothing stroke through her hair from Emily has her smiling up at her girlfriend.

I have to admit, I like Gina already. They weren't lying when they said that she isn't like other mums.

"How was the protest, Gina?" Emily asks, her fondness for the woman evident both in her voice and on her face.

I can't help thinking that Gina's the mother figure that Emily wishes she had in her own mother. At least she's got one good one in her life. I glance at Katie and see adoration for Gina written on her face, too.

"Oh, it was fine. Almost got arrested, but we weren't doing anything illegal, so they had no grounds. It was a peaceful protest, as always. It's the bloody scientists and their animal testing that the police should put a stop to," Gina sighed, waving her hand around as if dismissing the events. "How was your day, girls?"

"Carl was an obnoxious cunt," Naomi offers.

"Jenna was a raging bitch," Katie replies.

"Sleeping in and staying home was lovely," Emily says with a smile.

"Fuck off," Katie and Naomi mutter in unison, both managing to sound simultaneously annoyed and affectionate.

Gina laughs. "Everyone needs a day to themselves every now and then. Don't you think, Effy?" she glances at me, still smiling warmly.

"Yeah," I agree. I know my voice sounds casual, but for some reason Gina tilts her head to the side for a second and I'm under the impression that she's studying me.

"Right, well, I know you don't want some old lady spoiling your fun. I'm just going to take the rest of this bottle of wine and wander off to my room. You girls enjoy!" she winks at us and then heads upstairs.

"Damn. Now I have to get up and get another bottle," Naomi grumbles, pushing herself up off the floor.

"Can you grab some Garibaldi's while you're up?" Emily asks.

"Only because I love you," Naomi replies, leaning down to place a quick kiss on her girlfriend's lips.

"Love you, too," Emily murmurs with a contented smile as Naomi wanders off to the kitchen, already swaying slightly.

"Guess we're not making it out tonight, then," Katie declares, leaning back on the couch with a sigh. "Since we've got class in the morning, you're more than welcome to just stay here."

I don't even consider the offer. I won't be able to sleep if I stay here, as stupid as it sounds. The anxieties and the flashbacks will only haunt me more here than they already do in my flat. I can't let them see that. "No. That's alright. I've got books at home. I should probably go soon anyway."

Katie looks at the clock. "It's just past nine. There's no way I'm letting you leave me with the nauseating lovebirds yet. They only get worse the more alcohol they consume."

"You mean better," Emily counters sticking out her tongue. "And Katie's right. You should stay a while longer."

For some reason, I go against my instinct and nod in agreement. It's just a while longer, I rationalise. Tomorrow I'll detach from them. Tomorrow I'll keep them all at arm's length.

I don't know if it's the alcohol in my system weakening my defences or merely the sudden still silence of my flat standing out in such stark contrast to the noise and laughter I enjoyed at Naomi's, but my brain won't shut off.

It races back, always travelling where I don't want it to go at night. I stare at the ceiling and images come unbidden to my mind. Images that remind me exactly why I don't need friends. In the end I'll push them away or they'll push me away, unable or unwilling to deal with my past. It's not even like I can blame them that.

It's my fault. Everything that's happened to me. All of it.

If I hadn't let my mum push me into that stupid slumber party with the daughter of the man she was dating at the time. If I hadn't decided to put on a front, to seem cool, mysterious, dangerous. If I hadn't decided the night needed first alcohol then pot (what little I'd been able to snag from Tony's room when he wasn't paying attention). If I hadn't suggested that we sneak out, enticing them with stories I'd heard from Tony of exciting nights out.

This is a game I play with myself a lot. The "if" game. The game that reminds me, no matter what my mum says, or Tony, or any of the therapists and psychiatrists, that I brought all of this on myself. I made the decisions. I put myself in that position. It was me. My fault.

It reminds me that I don't deserve friends. I shouldn't drag them into my shit. I just need to stay away from them. I can let them see my calm, mysterious exterior, but that's where it needs to stop.

I let the guilt seep in overwhelming me. My fucking fault. Everything is my fucking fault. I feel tears start to sting my eyes, but I don't deserve to get to cry over this. I close my eyes tight, shutting the tears in. My nails dig into my palms and I realise I'm clenching my fists. I fucking hate myself. Why can't I fucking get over this? It was my fault. I accepted that long ago. So why is it still affecting me five years later? Why is it worse now than it has been in years?

Despite my best attempts hot tears trail out of the corner of my eyes and burn down the side of my face until the drop onto the pillow with a soft thud.

My mind's working against me, taking me back there, using my hatred to fuel my flashbacks. I can see the dingy house with the old, tattered beige couch riddled with stains and cigarette burns. I can see the faded grey, lumpy futon where it all unfolded, tucked away in a semi obscured from view back room. I can see his friends and mine. I can taste the noxious sweet drink he handed me that I drank without question, the coconut rum overwhelming.

_It's your fault. It's all your fault.__ All your fucking fault!_ My brain shouts at me, as more tears trickle down onto the pillow.

I feel his arms wrap around me and I bolt upright, looking around my room wildly. I'm alone. He's not here. Nobody's here but me. My ears listen acutely to the sounds around me, listening for anything out of place, but nothing's there. I take deep, ragged, gasping breaths, trying to regain some sort of control over my own body even if I have none over my own mind.

My body is shaking violently and my heart is beating out of my chest. I'm struck by an overwhelming wave of nausea that I fight down. I sit up, pushing my back into the corner of the bed, pressed against both walls, feeling the security they offer as I tuck my knees up under my chin. I tug the blanket up and wrap my arms around my legs and hold them tight.

It seems that a good night's sleep just isn't in the cards tonight.

My fault again.


	3. Author's Note

**A/N: Decided not to give up on this story just yet. And just so the reviews don't get screwed up, putting this little note in to let you guys know. It turns out it's not quite as easy to retire from fanfiction as I'd thought it would be. Hope you don't mind. ;)**


	4. Weakening Resolve

**A/N: This is a short chapter, but since I haven't updated in a while, I figured something is better than nothing? Turns out this was just sitting on my computer doing nothing, so thought I'd share. Hope you like it.**

**This chapter is dedicated to warriormari for being such an awesome friend and fan. :) I 3 you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters. **

**.**

**.**

My eyes scan the lecture hall for burgundy hair, and I'm annoyed to find myself simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see none. I take a seat in the back row, putting my bag and my coat down on the seats on either side of me to discourage anyone sitting next to me. I like the back of the classroom. I can see everyone else. If the lecture gets too dull I can analyse the people beside me. I've spent years simply people watching. People give away so much about themselves when they think nobody else is looking.

I pull out my notebook and scribble the date in the corner of the first empty page, then stare blankly at it as I listen to the people settle into their seats around me, glancing up whenever I hear anyone get too close.

When I look up to find Katie smiling at me, standing expectantly beside the chair with my coat, I feel something in my chest constrict. I'm not worth being friends with, I remind myself. I give her a small nod, but make no effort to invite her to sit next to me.

This doesn't seem to deter her. She moves my coat herself, tossing it across me so that it lands on my bag, then sits beside me, plopping her bag on the other side of her. A small island of two separated by bags from the rest of the class.

"Classes before eleven should be banned," Katie sighs, pulling out her own notebook and leaning heavily back in the chair.

I can't help but smirk.

"Or drinking the night before classes before eleven," she adds.

A small silent chuckle shakes my body.

She smiles over at me. "Not a morning person either?"

I shake my head. Truth is I slept like such shit last night (and do on a regular basis) I can be alert at any time of day even though I'm constantly on the verge of exhaustion. There's no need to explain that, though.

"I have to say, it's fucking nice not having to sit next to one of the other mongs in this class," Katie says.

"Sorry I'm late. We've got a lot to cover today, so let's get started," the professor announces as she sweeps into the room, cutting of any further conversation between me and Katie.

At least, I'm hopeful of that, although Katie strikes me as the type who might talk through class. To my surprise and relief, she turns all of her attention away from me and onto the professor, taking detailed notes in her notebook from the start.

We're discussing positive and negative reinforcement and punishment today, apparently, which I'm already well aware of. I've had all of the above tried on me, especially back when I didn't talk. I start to tune out, scribbling only the more important notes as reminders for my brain more for something to do with my hands than out of necessity.

Without my express consent, I find my eyes trailing to the girl beside me. Her hair is tied back in a messy, but still attractive, ponytail, and the jeans and simple graphic T she's wearing still manage to hug her body in all the right ways. Her makeup is subtle, but still beautifully accentuates her gorgeous big brown eyes.

She's really quite stunning, it hits me. More so last night and now than the night I met her for the simple fact that she's not trying so hard.

Her eyes are bright and sharp and her face is eager and attentive. She's leaning forward, as if the closer she is to the professor, the better she'll learn what's being taught.

I have to smile to myself. Most people don't really surprise me, but Katie seems to. Some of herself she shows clearly despite her mask, but there are parts of her that are deeper buried, parts someone would have to look for. I can't help but be intrigued. Against my better judgement, I want to look for those hidden parts of her. I can't help it. I've always liked knowing what makes people tick, learning their deepest, darkest secrets, knowing things about them before they even have a chance to tell me. (It certainly beats looking into my own brain.)

Mostly I do it with people I keep at arm's length, though. I usually get as much information about those around me while giving little or no real information about myself. Most people don't notice.

Apparently Katie isn't most people. Last night proved that she catches on when I don't answer the question that's actually asked. She's clever and observant where other people aren't, even as she pretends to be neither.

I want to know why.

She glances at me with a genuine smile, and I have to swallow hard and look away.

I'm not making friends, I remind myself.

.

.

It turns out that Katie's in two more of my classes today, and she sits beside me in both, talking to me before the lectures begin. Only in one class does she mutter to me during the lecture, and it's only because there's a rather obnoxious boy in the front row that seems to understand nothing and attempt to overcomplicate everything. He clearly annoys her as much as he annoys me.

By the time we leave our last class for the day, I'm feeling surprisingly upbeat, especially given the way last night ended and my lack of sleep.

My good mood is almost vanquished in a split second when Katie links her arm through mine as we walk away from campus. My body instantly tenses at the slight pressure of the touch, but then she smiles at me and begins chatting about how she'd always thought that punishment was always negative and reinforcement was always positive so she'd been baffled when the professor had mentioned positive punishment and negative reinforcement.

"But it makes perfect sense. It's really interesting, actually. I'd just never thought about it like that," she continues to ramble. She's so genuine and interested, and her touch is really quite light.

I feel my body relax again. It both worries and surprises me.

I can't get attached because if I do I might give something away and it will only hurt more when she eventually leaves me. It's the way I've lived my life. I can't let Katie or Emily or Naomi change that.

.

.

I don't know why I let her talk me in to coffee. I should have made my excuses and gotten away, gone home, left her alone. I'm only torturing myself in the long run and her in the meantime. It's my curiosity getting the best of me. I know it is.

"So why psychology, Effy?" Katie asks.

I contemplate my answer before I respond. "I like understanding what makes people tick," I reply, hoping that I'm not giving too much of myself away. I've always picked my words carefully, but so far being with Naomi, Emily and Katie seems to make me more careless.

"I get that. I like getting to know people. When I was younger, I liked knowing how to manipulate people for my benefit. Boys especially, but let's face it, they're pretty easy. You don't exactly need a fucking psychology degree to understand that they're almost always thinking about sex, food, or beer. Now, I just really like figuring people out," Katie says.

It's the most honest, open information she's given me yet, and I can't help being curious as to why she's giving me this insight into her head. I look at her intently, watching the way her fingers pick at the red plastic stirring straw in her coffee and noticing how even though she's looking up, she's not quite looking at me, not in my eyes at least. She must feel suddenly self conscious about what she's said because her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink.

"Ha, wow, that sounded kinda bad," she mutters with a forced laugh.

_Defence mechanism,_ I think.

"Forget I said that?" she suggests.

I let out a small chuckle. I consider lying, and saying "Forget what?" but I know that my brain is already funnelling away any information I get on her into a file in my head. "Never," I reply instead with what I hope comes off as a sly smile.

Katie blushes a little deeper and her eyes finally turn to mine. "I'm not a slag," she says, eyes flashing with a hint of pain and also defiance.

"Didn't think you were," I assure her.

She studies me for a second, then offers a small smile. "You're not like most people," she tells me.

My eyes widen in surprise, my mask falling away. I've been told as much before, but not in quite such an open, honest, interested way, and not by someone with gorgeous brown eyes that are examining me curiously. _Fuck._ "Oh?" I attempt to feign disinterest and regain my air of mystery, but the smirk that flits across her face tells me she sees through me.

"Yep," she says without elaborating. She takes a long slurp of her coffee that has me believing she's attempting to hide an even bigger smirk behind her drink.

"You're pretty unique yourself," I reply after a minute. I want to throw her off a little without betraying how intriguing I actually find her.

Worry flickers in Katie's eyes, and I get a glimpse of just how much confidence she might actually lack beneath the confident bravado she tends to convey.

"In a good way," I hear myself add before I've thought it through. I really need to watch myself more around Katie. I can't let her in. I can't let her get close.

She flashes me a smile that's both nervous and hopeful and absolutely adorable all in one.

I should walk away now because that smile is affecting me in ways I don't even want to contemplate, but I can't bring myself to make an excuse and get up and walk away. Instead I shoot her a small smile back before turning my attention to my coffee and downing a few large gulps, wishing that there was some Bailey's Irish Cream in it.

"So these boys that you've manipulated..." I prompt, hoping to keep the conversation focused on Katie from now on.

She blushes again, the pink flush creeping up her neck and spreading across her cheeks and her cute button nose. "I didn't manipulate –" she starts, then cuts herself off with a sigh. "I was young and foolish."

"Weren't we all once?" I offer, sensing her discomfort with the topic.

She laughs. "You seem far too closed off to have ever been foolish. From what I've seen you contemplate everything before you do it or say it."

Her comment makes me sit back and swallow hard. If she's already seen that much, I'm in more trouble than I think. How could I have been so stupid as to give so much of myself away so quickly. I stare down at what remains of my coffee. "You'd be surprised," I reply quietly, suddenly wishing that I'd left before.

"Sorry," she says, so softly, voice so full of remorse, that I have to look back up at her. She's staring into her coffee as she stirs it absently, her perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't mean...You're just quiet, is all I meant. You seem very internal."

I don't know how to respond for once. I don't want to confirm that because she might wonder why I'm like that and I don't need her wondering that, but I also don't want to outright lie to her (something else that should bother me because I've never had much of a problem telling a lie or evading the truth).

"Sorry," she mumbles again.

_See?_ I tell myself as I watch her mentally and physically withdraw from me. _You can't have friends._

"No, I'm sorry," I counter. I gulp down the rest of my coffee. "I should –"

"Don't go," she cuts me off. "Come on, Ems and Naomi should be about done with their last classes of the day. Let's go meet them for a drink." She's already whipping out her phone, presumably to text them.

I'm baffled as to why she'd want to spend more time with me right now. I should say no. I'm about to, but then she glances up at me with hopeful eyes. "What about not drinking the night before classes before eleven?" It's my last effort to object without offending.

"We won't drink as much. Besides, we have to take advantage of the days that you and Naomi don't work if you're going to be working all weekend every weekend."

I swallow hard at the implication that I'll be included in future plans of theirs, and at the assumption that I'll be around and they'll want me around. "Right," I mutter.

"Come on. Let's go. Ems says they just got home. We'll meet them there," Katie says, standing up from her seat and holding out a hand to me.

I hesitate. My instinct is to not touch. Not when I'm sober, at least. I try telling myself that it wasn't that bad earlier, but before I can talk myself into anything, she rolls her eyes and grabs my hand tugging me up.

"Come on," she says.

I let her lead me away, aware that it isn't me, that I don't merely let things happen to me. Not anymore. Yet it's happening. I know I'm only getting myself into trouble.


End file.
